Picture Perfect Mutilation
by Mystic Dodo
Summary: As her blood stains the sheets and a wound hides in her eyes, he leaves his wife to find guilty solace in his rival. -Smut, Yaoi-


**Picture Perfect Mutilation**

**Author: **Mystic Dodo

**Originaly Published:** 2010

* * *

He hated himself. He hated himself. He hated himself.

Underneath his cheerful and happy exterior was a man that was afraid; not of fighting, he was a born fighter. But he was afraid; of not winning, of hurting, of being found out…

He loved his wife. He adored her; she was impatient and she was irrational at times but she waited. She was faithful. She endured his bruises without so much of a complaint. She cooked until he was about to burst and she touched him with her soft fingers and lips, love shining in her beautiful, so beautiful, eyes.

He always avoided her eyes when they were together. He couldn't bear to see the possible hurt in them. He didn't want to see the suspicion, the accusation, the (dare he say it) the hatred…

Because, oh Kami, did he hate himself enough as it is.

He hated his blood. He hated his past. He hated his ancestry. He hated his thirst for strength; his lust for power; his desire for rippling muscles and the overwhelming sense of control that his forever increasing Saiyan power gave to him. He hated being a damn Saiyan. The word lay bitter on his tongue and his hand that was gripping the body beneath him clenched, making the person growl.

Goku closed his eyes tight as pleasure tingled up and down his spine in a way that could only be achieved through sin. His skin glistened with sweat and his body was trembling but this time it wasn't out of fear for hurting the one his heart truly belonged to. Guilt, shame and self hatred were cocktailed in his sinful pleasure and Goku felt the strangled moan escape rebelliously from his mouth when his sexual partner brought a strong painful slap to his buttocks, pushing him deeper into the body of another.

The bed had broken yet another wall. With each and every thrust the bed slammed violently against the cracked and damaged wall; walls that were metaphorically breaking around Goku's emotions.

"Kakarot!" The man under his snarled, face twisted in angry sexual frustration.

Goku almost flinched when another hand slammed against his bruised behind; his thrusts quickened, his heart raced and sweat made the hard body underneath him almost soft to glide over… bulging muscles that he could almost imagine being soft breasts as he carefully and gently pleasured her, mind always on controlling his strength, on not hurting her, on not causing her damage…

With Vegeta, their sex was wild, animalistic and violent. There was no unrestrained thrusting; no softness and no sweet caresses that made the others face flush in delight. There was slaps. There were bruises. There was pain… and the guilt that Goku vented out in being roughly taken or ruthlessly taking.

He hated himself.

He loved his wife. He adored her. He still felt his heart flutter with joy at the sound of her melodic laugh. He knew every contour of her body; every scar, every beautiful blemish, every curve and every pleasure point...

And every place where he had unintentionally bruised her when they made love.

Memories flashed in his mind while Vegeta growled and moaned, nearing his climax.

The blood. The wincing. The pain. The tears. The hospital trips. The stitches…

He always tried. He always tried his damned hardest to not injure his wife. He tried to make her as special and as worshipped as she made him feel when her tongue ghosted over his body. He tried to control himself as he entered her, as he moved within her, as he loved her… "Chi-chi…"

But with his Saiyan strength, more often than not she was left cleaning the blood on the sheets as he brutally trained himself further than his body's limits as a punishment. She always did say that he trained himself too hard; it was easy to say that it was because he enjoyed training and that he enjoyed the fighting. But deep down inside, as each punch blurred the air and each kick strained his muscles he hated it; he would just hurt her again.

So, ironically, he trained; he made himself strong to protect the World for her. He would not allow anyone else to even contemplate hurt her whilst he was around; he hurt her enough as it was. Chi-Chi always complained when he left for days on end to train; _You need to spend time with your sons, Goku; you've missed seven years of their life. You've missed seven years of ours… Do you not care or something?_

An orgasm as cold as the winter wind but burned like shame made Goku grunt as he spilled himself into Vegeta with one final thrust. He kneeled, shaking momentarily before he got up in shaky knees and swiftly stumbled towards the bathroom. He avoided looked at himself in the mirror and the hot water scolded his skin as hot as the guilt flowing in his veins.

Of course he cared. It was because he cared he trained for days on end. He cared about his family.

Gohan, his first born, his son, his little boy… he had himself a mate now; married just two months back. An hour or so before the wedding, Gohan had been helping his father do up his tie. "You know, Dad, Mum would really appreciate it if you were home a lot more," Gohan had suggested softly. "It's been quiet there for ages, now. She misses you."

Goku guiltily turned his eyes away from his son, with his mother's pale complexion and her personality trait of stubbornness.

"I can't," Goku found himself whispering, shocking himself and Gohan.

Gohan studied his father before blinking, his eyes moving to observe his handiwork. "She's your wife. I certainly will not leave Videl, even if I did fear there was a threat on the horizon. I love her… and sometimes, I think Mum wonders if _you_ love her."

It wasn't accusing. It wasn't an insult. It was the truth.

But how could Goku explain that it was because he loved her he avoided her? It was because he loved her that he often snuck away when tension made his shoulders stiff and frustration made him seek out release he couldn't otherwise achieve with the soft, curvaceous human body of his wife?

Maybe deep down Chi-Chi knew.

He was distant from her in the bedroom. He avoided her searching eyes. He flinched at her wind-like touch. He longed for physical contact, to hold her with his strength and make love to her like he had seen couples do on some old porno movies that Yamucha owned years and years. But he hurt her; even at his gentlest he hurt her.

He had to hurt and punish himself in return.

In the hellish shower Goku scrubbed his skin raw and still Vegeta's scent never left him. Perhaps it was psychological? He wondered if Chi-Chi would be able to smell the telltale scent of raw sex on his flesh, see the nail marks that abused his back and the bruises that covered his buttocks…

He hated himself.

He hated being a Saiyan. He hated his urges and need for sex. He hated hurting her. He hated Vegeta for not pushing him away and instead always being there ready for a violent, quick fuck.

Turning off the shower, Goku stepped out and hastily dried himself before adorning his clothes. He avoided looking up from the floor as he quietly made his way from Capsule Corporation; out of sight, out of mind. He wouldn't have to think of Bulma or Trunks and the fact that their husband and father was cheating with his rival. He wondered if Bulma knew; she was always mysteriously absent when Goku visited. But the warmth in her eyes never died when she saw her childhood friend and he couldn't be sure. It was the same with Chi-Chi. She always had that soft smile flirting at her lips and affection glowing in her eyes… yet sometimes he caught her looking at him with something akin to a painful understanding smudged at the sides of her features.

He wondered how long it would take for Videl to have that same look in regards to Gohan.

After a few months, he could already see the agitation growing at the edge of his son's eyes. Could Vegeta soon be the fuck buddy of two Sons? Goten would no doubt find his guilty pleasure with Vegeta's son once the time arrived… But maybe Gohan wouldn't have as many issues; he was, after all, a Halfling. Yet he had seen the wince on Videl's face and the hushed talks between the three women as they exchanged painkillers and experienced words to the youngest wife of a Saiyan. He had seen Gohan's guilt, mirroring his father's.

He wanted to save his son from the guilt that assaulted and abused Goku with every second of every day. But how, when he couldn't even save himself? How could he even admit to his son that he, his respected, well loved father, cheated on his wife because he couldn't control his sexual impulses, with or without her?

He hated himself.

Landing in front of his home, Goku saw the soft light illuminating from his mate's (or rather, their) bedroom. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Goku entered his home and gently climbed into bed with his back towards his lover, unable to see her eyes watching his form with the emotions that would suffocate him more with self hatred. Things were still for a moment before Goku felt Chi-Chi curl up behind him, her small hand circling around his waist; always loving, always with every movement reflecting her love towards her husband.

He held the china appendix and the words he couldn't say were stuck in his throat; I'm sorry. I love you. Forgive me.

It wasn't until he heard Chi-Chi's rhythmic breathing that he carefully shifted so that he could scoop her against his chest and bury his head against her with tears as bruising as love bites littering the delicate skin of her neck.

He always managed to hurt her. He just didn't know how to stop.


End file.
